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Chapter Twenty-Eight

Tynan

T here was a mess to handle, and Sutton refused to leave until there was nothing more to do. And until she was sure with her own two eyes that Mara was nowhere in the warehouse.

With Creed’s help, she and Robyn retrieved the women from the shipping containers. Unfortunately, none of them were Mara, and all of them had been kept in such a drugged, docile state that no one could remember the girl in the cage.

The total came in at sixty-seven women who’d been kidnapped and held hostage, waiting to be sold. Meanwhile, Harm, Dare, and I dealt with the dead, cataloging names and faces for our own files.

“We didn’t kill these men,” Dare muttered out of earshot of Sutton.

I looked back at the guards from that final hallway. “No, we didn’t.”

It was a strange limbo to navigate. On the one hand, Carson was dead—his whole trafficking scheme gone along with him, and we’d rescued sixty-seven innocent women who’d been about to be sold into the sex trade or worse.

But on the other…I looked back at Sutton, seeing the shadow of failure looming over her. We still hadn’t found Mara.

“I wonder if it was Remington,” Dare offered, his eyes flicking to Rob and Sutton.

“Maybe.” I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck.

“Go.” Harm came to stand beside me, his bike keys dangling in my direction. “Take it and Sutton and get out of here.”

I swallowed hard.

“We’re going to call the police.”

My breath released with a whoosh, and I took his offer. “Thanks.”

I knew how deeply Sutton was hurting because when I went to her to pull her away, she didn’t even feign protest.

“Let me take care of you,” I murmured, and when she nodded, I turned and flipped the shower on.

She hadn’t said a word since we’d gotten back to the garage. Even though she could walk, I picked her up off the bike and carried her to the cabin and directly to the bathroom. I wanted to wash away as much of her pain as I could.

Steam started to fill the room almost instantly. With careful precision, I removed her clothes, fighting the swell of rage each time I saw the bloodstains on her neck and shoulders from where that fucker had ripped a precious lock of hair from her scalp.

I’d wanted to rip his whole fucking head off when I saw that, but I’d settled for blowing apart his kneecap.

I maneuvered her into the hot water, removing only my socks and shoes before I followed her inside. My insides were at war—one side fighting for tenderness, the other side fighting to fuck her.

Lathering soap in my hands, I scrubbed them over her supple skin, recalling just how strong and agile she’d looked when she dropped down onto Carson—surprising him and me.

It shouldn’t turn me on to watch her fight. It shouldn’t turn me on to recall how fucking powerful she’d looked—a bloody portrait of female rage as she’d driven her knife into Carson’s neck.

But so help me God, there was nothing about her that didn’t turn me on.

“You were incredible,” I murmured as I washed her, ignoring the thickening of my cock because I needed to focus on her. “So fucking incredible, my little wasp.”

Her head tipped up to mine, eyes glassy. “You let me kill him.”

My hands stilled. I could’ve easily killed Carson while they struggled. Hell, I’d wanted to. But even though I knew I’d be pulling that trigger…

“He wasn’t mine to kill.”

Her lips parted, her gaze darkening. “You love me.”

“Every dark, sharp, dangerous piece,” I admitted, cupping the side of her face. “I love you so much I’d kill for you, my little wasp, and more importantly, I’d not kill for you.”

Before I could stop her, she reached up and pulled my mouth to hers.

The kiss wasn’t soft or tender or defeated. It was angry. It was still fighting. It was still searching for shelter in the middle of the storm.

“Sutton.” I tore my mouth away before I fucked her against the tile.

“Please,” she begged, her breath catching on the crest of a cry. My jaw locked as she took my wrist and dragged it between her thighs. A groan tore from my chest, feeling how slick she was for me. “Please, break me, daddy.”

I heard the pain in her voice. The ache. It wasn’t just about pleasure; I was the only one who could break through her walls.

A defeated sound rumbled from my chest as I dropped to my knees in front of her.

Gasping, she clutched my head, holding me tight as my teeth pulled and my tongue lashed over her clit.

“Take Daddy’s cock out,” I ordered.

Eyes hooked to mine, her small hands worked open my belt and the waist of my jeans. Air hissed through my lips when she pulled my throbbing cock out, the skin stretched tight over my ladder.

I couldn’t stop a groan that escaped when she stroked me, pleasure zinging along my spine.

“Fuck, you undo me,” I muttered, letting myself have one more second to relish the way she worked my length with two hands before I stopped her. I took both her wrists in one of my hands and brought them to my mouth. “As much as I’d love to come all over these hands that just killed a man, I need to be inside you.”

Her eyes turned hooded, and all she managed was an incoherent moan.

“Turn around and put your hands on the wall,” I ordered, guiding her with my hold. I couldn’t help my smile when she braced her palms wide like she knew she’d need the fucking support. “Now bend forward and show me how puffy and wet your cunt is for me,” I growled. “Show me how much you want to be ruined by Daddy’s big, pierced cock.”

She tipped forward, and suddenly I needed to hear her. I needed to hear the loudest of her cries to the softest of her pants. So, I reached out and turned off the shower.

“Want to hear my cock sinking deep into this pretty pussy,” I told her, sliding my fingers along the seam of her cunt and then pushing two inside.

Fuck. She was still so fucking tight from her climax.

Groaning, I brought my hands to her ass cheeks, rubbing and squeezing them and then spreading them wide.

I had the perfect view of my cock lined up with her entrance. The perfect hold to feel her body tremble and shake as I pushed inside her. I should’ve been slower. Should’ve inched my way in through her tight muscles. But I couldn’t.

“You’re doing so good. You take me so fucking good, little wasp.”

She whimpered and rocked back, wanting more even though I knew it wasn’t all pleasure she was feeling right now.

Taking hold of her hips, I lifted her slightly as I inched forward and watched my fourth piercing disappear into her slick cunt.

“Stand on my feet,” I said tightly. “Need you higher if you’re going to fit all of me.”

The balls of her feet worked onto the top of mine, and I tested the position, noting how her legs were now like marionettes attached to mine.

“Please.” She pushed back right as I drove forward. “Ahh!”

“Fuckkkk,” I cursed at the same time, the length of my fat cock buried to the hilt inside her. “Fuck, you’re perfect. So perfect.” I started to move, the need for release consuming every other driving thought.

My hips slapped against her ass. Her body grew slicker, the sounds of it becoming even wetter as I fucked her.

As I thrust, I moved my feet closer. Each fraction of an inch tightening the grip her body had on mine and making it feel even more like I was about to split her in two.

“Please,” she begged, her lower body trembling in my hands. “Please, Daddy.” My eyes screwed shut, my cock shunting into her harder.

“Come all over Daddy’s cock,” I ground out. “Show me how much you love me.”

She screamed and fractured apart, the squeeze of her pussy trying to break me as I drove into her again and again until my release took over and I came deep against her womb.

I filled her with my cum, and then I cleaned her with my mouth until that final orgasm took the last strength from her legs.

Only then did I dry us and carry her to the bed, my chest squeezing when she curled into it.

She’d done so much. Risked so much. Somehow, we’d figure out a way to be okay with what we’d accomplished rather than defeated by what was still left undone.

I’d made a promise I intended to keep. I just never expected to keep it so soon.

It was not even two weeks after the bust at the warehouse when Dare called me at an ungodly hour of the morning, which could only mean it was important.

“Ty, you need to get up here,” his voice rumbled on the other end of the line.

I stiffened, instantly on alert, which made Sutton wake beside me.

“What is it?”

“Just get up here. Now.”

I sat up straight. Even without him hanging up on me, I knew something was wrong. His guarded and tense tone put me instantly on edge.

“What is it?” Sutton asked as I got out of bed.

I stilled. What if the thing he wasn’t saying was that she was dead?

“It was Dare. He wants me up there now,” I said. “Sounded urgent.”

In a flurry of movement and clothing, we were both dressed within seconds and in the elevator up to the garage. As soon as the doors opened, though, Dare was waiting, and the gun he held out to me wasn’t promising.

“What the hell is going on?”

Dare’s jaw twitched as he handed me the iPad, the security footage out front of the garage on the screen. Hardly a nanosecond passed before Sutton grabbed the edge of the iPad and tugged it toward her.

“It’s Mara,” she said in disbelief, but she wasn’t wrong.

Her best friend stood outside the garage, looking directly into the camera, her face unmistakable. She looked a little thin. Remnants of old bruises still colored her skin, but the pale greenish tint indicated they’d been healing for some time.

“What are we waiting for?—”

I grabbed her arm, stopping her from going ahead of us.

“Who does that look like to you?” Dare asked, his voice eerily low.

The man beside Mara didn’t look at the camera. He was dressed in a tailored black three-piece suit but no tie, his hands clasped behind his back. He wore a hat that blocked his face from the camera, and it was precisely the hat that told me who he was.

“Remington.”

Shit. I passed the iPad back to him and took the gun.

“So, it was Remington who saved her at the warehouse.” From behind us, Sutton put voice to the thoughts in my head. “Why?”

We all had the same questions: Why? How? For what? But the only person who could answer them was standing outside our front door.

“Where’s Rhys?”

“Bringing the Straw Sandal to the police.”

My nostrils flared. “And Harm?”

“With Rob in the city helping to get all those women situated and safe,” he answered low, the door approaching quickly.

As for Creed, he was still in the area, looking for any more clues on Mara as the police and FBI processed the warehouse.

“So, it’s just us.” To face the man at the top of the FBI’s Most Wanted List.

Dare grunted. “He doesn’t look like he’s armed.”

“That’s what worries me.” Unarmed men usually carried the most dangerous weapon: information.

Sutton huffed when I pushed her behind me, nodding to Dare as he stood on the other side of the door.

Lifting his phone, he spoke into the microphone that funneled to the security system speakers outside.

“Step back from the girl, Mr. Remington.”

On the screen, we watched the suited man take a sizable step backward and then lift his hands like he was the most harmless of characters.

“I come in peace, Mr. Keyes.” He glanced at Mara. “And with an olive branch.”

“We’ll see about that,” I muttered and hauled open the door.

My gaze and my gun didn’t leave the center of Remington’s chest. His hands were already up, but when he saw me, all he did was smile as though I’d done exactly what he expected.

In the corner of my eye, I caught Mara looking at him almost like she was waiting for his okay, but then Sutton pushed past Dare.

“Mara!”

The instant Mara saw her, she bolted for my woman, the two of them hugging and crying like there wasn’t a fucking fugitive standing a few feet away.

“Sutton, take Mara to the guest house.”

I waited, unmoving until they were far enough away to be safe before I spoke again.

“What do you want, Mr. Remington?”

His mouth curved up on one side. “I’m here to make a deal.”